Juxtaposition: Beautiful Face, Ugly Life
by abrainiac
Summary: Or How to Be Like Quinn Fabray. Quinn angst taken from beginning of Season 3. Read if you want to save the broccoli forests, because that's where the gummy bear families live! Rated T for language


Name: "Juxtaposition: Beautiful Face, Ugly Life" or "How to Be Like Quinn Fabray"

Author: Abrainiac

Rating: T for language (F-bombs are quite the common occurrence)

Warnings: None? Just major angst!

(A/N): Set from Quinn's perspective, on her blog (which everyone seems to read). Set when Quinn re-adopts her Cheerio status in Season 3, after her pink-haired breakdown. I actually wrote this forever ago, then rewrote it just now! Hope you enjoy it! Read, review, ENJOY! =D

* * *

Why does she have such a beautiful face?

What gives her the right to be so perfect when I'm stuck being me?

How do I be like her?

Who doesn't want her, or want to _be_ her?

When will I get to be her?

All of these are the typical questions that pop into your mind when I walk down the hall. I'm not being conceited. I'm really not. I'm beautiful. It's a fact. I know it, you know it, the whole world knows it.

Well, it really pains me to hear of your insecurities regarding me. Really, tell me more. I care how much my image affects you. It's not like the way that it affects me matters at all! Definitely not!

And, such I care so much about your mental well-being, I'll answer some of your questions. And I'll do it straight-faced, polite, and without even the slightest hint of sarcasm. That's _totally_ possible.

You ask why my face is so beautiful? Yes, that seems like a good question. Clear, right to the point, with a very simple answer. Why isn't my face fucked up? Because God was too busy fucking up my life. Everything about it is hideous: my past, my emotions, my family, my future. My face is all I have left.

What gives me the right? Oh, this is a good one. For this one, I'll have to ask you a question to answer one. So, what is most sacred to you? Think long and hard for a moment. Got your answer? Well, for me, it was my faith, my virginity, and my family. Now take that most sacred thing, and light it on fire. When it's just smoldering, spit on it and stomp it out. Good! It's almost indistinguishable now! But you still know it's there, even if it's in this sorry state. So rip it to shreds, feed it to the vultures at school who will do anything to get to the top – including kill the dreams of others. Doesn't that sound just _pleasant_? That's what gives me my fucking right.

How can you be like me? Well, you can see the previous answer for some more information, but I'll also give you some advice, straight from me to you. _Be who others want you to be_. Oh, you want to cry because you've been ostracized for mothering a child in high school, because you've had slushies thrown at you, because you had to give up the only good and pure thing you've ever produced? Nope! Don't cry! That's not what a head cheerleader does. She puts on her bitch suit and gets the fuck over it. Honestly, to be like me, just hate life; the face will compensate eventually.

Who doesn't want to either be me or fuck me? Well, the obvious answer is Kurt Hummel, but I think that you might have meant that differently. People don't want to _be_ me. They want to have what I have, which are, as follows: the head cheerleader position, an impressive repertoire of hot boyfriends, a gorgeous face, and a shit ton of mental issues to work through.

When will you get to be me? When you've got nothing left to lose.

With the Q&A section finished with, I suppose I'll just rant at you run-of-the-mill idiots who make up this school, and are so desperate for popularity that you'll Google 'how to be like Quinn Fabray'.

Take my words to heart, because that's exactly where mine are coming from. Let's unravel the enigma that is _the_ Quinn Fabray by putting some perspective on the situation. Perspective that I expect you to relate to and that I hope you'll appreciate.

You can look in the mirror, and wonder why your eyes are too small, your forehead is so pimply, and your chin is of the 'double' genre. You can see a person that you wish you could change.

I look in the mirror, and I see beauty. I see a girl who is gorgeous, and who knows it. But _I_ can see past the pretty face, and to the inside, which is... shall we say, "not so pretty"? I see the person that I'd give the world to change.

You ask why I get to be beautiful, while you're ugly. You ask why I am so effortlessly superior. You ask why I'm so shallow.

I'm shallow because that's the only part of me that doesn't hurt. The deep part is dark, filled with a twisted past and secrets better left unspoken. The shallow part is beautiful, and draws people in. People will like me if I'm shallow... _I'll_ like me if I'm shallow. Being shallow is an escape from the sincere pain in my life.

So... What's your excuse?

* * *

(A/N): Well, I hope you liked it! Not much to say here, I suppose! I have a ton of stories already written just badly in need of editing and inspiration to bring them to light. If you want more, review telling so! If you don't, that's fine, too! :3

All flames will be used to roast marshmallows


End file.
